


Let It Be Me

by Ms_Anthrop



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: sshg_giftfest, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, HP: EWE, Humor, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-25 23:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13223331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Anthrop/pseuds/Ms_Anthrop
Summary: "Oi, 'Ermione... why are you talking about pricks like that? And whaddya mean you're beatin' the Headmaster?"It was a fair question... but the answer proved to be anything but simple. For Headmaster Snape and Mistress Granger, a pub night spent together in conversation turns into something else entirely.Written for Toodleoo as part of the 2016 LJ SSHG Gift Fest.





	1. Pub!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/gifts).



_[Let It Be Me, Ray Lamontagne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LWpw3CMCEg) _

 

_3 February 2001_

_The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade_

 

"Tallywacker."

"John Thomas."

"Purple Parsnip."

"Pork Sword."

"Trouser Snake."

"Wedding Tackle."

"Enormous...ly Satisfying."

Hermione couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter at her companion's smug offering. "That's a fail, Headmaster, on the grounds that 'enormously satisfying' is not only a subjective opinion but an adverb to boot. As the rules were adjectives only, I do believe that I've won this round. Up you go to the bar, sir..."

His mouth twitched, and Hermione couldn't help but notice that the man had an absurdly perfect cupid's bow to go along with a rather lush bottom lip; a fact, she reckoned, that had been hidden from her for years because of his habit of going thin-lipped with displeasure at any opportunity.

 _Honestly_ , she mused, the world gone warm and soft and somehow curiously intimate thanks to the haze of marvellous scotch, _Severus Snape is sex on a stick, and he hasn't a ruddy clue!_

The Headmaster sat opposite of her, an elbow propped on the table and one leg casually thrown over the other, smirk ever present. Oh, Snape hadn't transformed into some Hollywood manly ideal. Among other traits, his face was still a touch too long, his nose much too big, and his hair a fine, limp mess - but the humour shining out his of magpie-dark eyes, his intelligence and wit... hell, the sheer bloody amount of charisma the man had leaking out of every pore created a package that was simply devastating to her.

He reached for his drink, and Hermione's attention was drawn to the graceful line of hand and wrist. The sleeve of his blue jumper slid down his arm a tad, and she was treated to the alluring sight of his wrist bone, just there, peeking out and begging to be kissed. She longed to run her mouth over that exposed connection of bone and sinew, to taste the pale skin and feel the flex of those clever fingers under her tongue...

 _I've gone absolutely barking_ , Hermione thought, sincerely hoping that the evening's drinking had not wholly destroyed her poker face, _but I can't really bring myself to be bothered. This is the nicest night I've had in years, and I don't care if it's because I'm pissed. I'm going to bloody well enjoy this!_

Across the table, a dark brow went up, and Hermione was treated to a challenging smile. "I wouldn't be so quick to declare victory, Mistress Granger. At the moment, we are merely tied. You must come up with one further adjective in order to win."

_One more...? Oh, bollocks, I've got to come up with another adjective for penis! Think, Granger, think!_

"Pocket Javelin!" she shouted, perhaps a touch too enthusiastically. "Tockley! Jag! I've done it! I've beaten you!"

The hubbub of the barroom abruptly died down at the sound of her voice, a dozen nosey heads swivelling in their direction. Hermione felt herself turning beet red at the attention, and buried her face in her hands.

"Oi, 'Ermione... why are you talking about pricks like that? And whaddya mean you're beatin' the Headmaster?"

The resulting shocked silence made Hermione want to open up a sinkhole and disappear well into the summer term. It was Rosmerta who finally stepped in to save her. "Ask no questions, Hagrid, and you'll hear no lies. And on that disquieting note, it's time for the final call, ladies and gents. Pay up and shove off unless you're staying for the lock-in."

Pomona gave a diabolical cackle at that, raising a half-full glass. "The birthday shenanigans have hardly started, my lovies. I've already bought a cask of Kilkerran. No need to go anywhere!"

Cheers rang out, and a ragged chorus of 'For She's a Jolly Good Fellow' started up as activity in the room slowly returned to normal.

"Oh, cock," she moaned softly, and the Headmaster chuckled, the sound rippling over her skin like the finest silk.

"If memory serves, we've already used that one."

Hermione did not immediately reply, choosing instead to thump her forehead repeatedly on the table. "Do you think that they're all drunk enough to forget that bit in the morning?"

"Pomona, perhaps. She's certainly well on her way to oblivion. Unfortunately, I can promise you that not only will Minerva and Rolanda remember, but they'll repeatedly bring it up at the most inopportune moments for the next twenty to thirty years."

Hermione gazed up at him pleadingly. "Would blackmail help, do you think?"

The Headmaster shook his head gravely. "Not in the least. Consider it punishment for being such a victory-obsessed know-it-all..."

"If we are returning to the comfort of annoying sobriquets, then I do believe that it's _insufferable_ know-it-all, thank you very much."

He was quiet for a moment, something unreadable flickering through his eyes. "Oh, I don't know about that. I seemed to have suffered through your company well enough tonight to disprove that part of your ridiculous moniker." He gave her a light tap on the jaw before standing. "Chin up, Granger. Shall I buy you that drink before I go?"

"You're leaving?" she asked, feeling some of the wonderful haze burn away.

His regard swept over the room, resting on each of the Hogwarts faculty members in turn. "With this many teachers spending the night in Hogsmeade, I dare not leave the care of the Castle solely to Filius and the part-time staff. Merlin knows what sort of mischief would unfold... besides which," he told her dryly, gesturing towards the rowdy scrum containing Pomona, Minerva, Rolanda and Vector, "...they need to blow off a bit of steam, and that is quite difficult for them to do with their boss _in situ_ , as it were."

"Oh," Hermione said, biting her lip and giving the situation some thought. "I'll go back with you if you don't mind. I'm not nearly as drunk as they are, and I don't care to catch up. Plus, no amount of transfiguration can make those benches comfortable. And the smell come morning..."

The Headmaster gave her a shallow bow, some of his charm fading into the usual routine of niceties. "As you wish."

They walked to the bar together, and he slid a hefty pile of Galleons towards Rosmerta. "This should cover my tab and be enough for a final round."

The buxom barkeep gave them a knowing grin but said nothing further. Face afire again, Hermione likewise paid her tab. _She doesn't think that we're... I mean, I do fancy him, but it's definitely a one-sided attraction. Right?_

Truth be told, this was the first time in the nearly two years she'd been a member of staff that Hermione had interacted with the Headmaster in such a friendly fashion. Indeed, she had only seen him this relaxed a handful of times, and it had never failed to spark her interest. That he shared a particular fondness for vulgar colloquial language had been a pleasant surprise; that she had been able to bait him into a literal battle of words had been...

_Bliss. It was pure bliss. And I'll be a daft moo if I try to make this any more than it is._

"Is anyone else amongst this ungrateful lot of masochists returning to the Castle?" the Headmaster bellowed, the hubbub coming to a sudden halt. Scowl firmly in place, he waited for several beats before continuing. "No? Right, then... this is for the morning," he intoned, thumping a bag full of vials of Sober-Up onto the gleaming counter. "And I'll remind you all that I will not be excusing anyone from rounds tomorrow no matter the reason. I also expect to see all of your cheerful faces at supper - on time. Understood?"

After receiving the appropriate affirmatives, Snape looked to Pomona. "Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Pomona, and have another round on me."

Pomona gave him a cheeky salute. "Many thanks, Headmaster."

With a swirl of black wool, Snape started for the door, and Hermione hurriedly threw herself into motion after him. They had almost made it to safety when Rolanda gave a shout.

"Granger! What in the name of Merlin's blue balls are you doing leaving the party this early?"

_So much for slinking away unnoticed..._

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the flying instructor. "If you remember, Hooch, I could hardly look you or Vector in the eye for over a month the last time I stayed at one of these bacchanals. I shudder to think what might happen if I stayed this go around."

"And here I thought you were a Gryffindor..." the other woman teased.

"Oh, I am. I've just learned when to retreat from the field when outmatched. Good night all," she said with brisk finality, shrugging on her cloak. "Happy birthday, Pomona."

Raucous laughter followed them outside into the snow, the cold air an assault after the humid warmth of the Three Broomsticks.

"Do I want to know?"

She glanced up at the tall figure at her side. "Let's just say that I've learned more about alternative uses of Devil's Snare than I've ever cared to."

"Gods don't remind me..." Snape groaned, making a face. "I swear, those two positively delight in torturing others with their depravity. When I first started teaching, I got 'accidentally' locked in a closet with them and honestly thought I would expire from sheer embarrassment..."

The disgruntled expression on his face made her giggle. However, the inattention also caused her to stumbled on an icy patch of pavement, and in a flash, she went flying arse over tit. With a gallant, ill-timed lurch, the Headmaster's arms shot out in an effort to steady her, but he misjudged the distance badly. In a flurry of snow, robes, and limbs, they crashed to the ground together.

For the first several seconds, all Hermione could do was wheeze with shock; thankfully, she had partially landed in a snowbank, and it was more her pride stung than anything serious. Snape hadn't been so lucky, having collapsed to his knees on the hard surface several feet away. She couldn't see his face, obscured as it was by the curtains of his hair.

"Sir? Are you alright?" In another awkward flailing of arms, Hermione righted herself and skidded over to the Headmaster, only just managing not to fall a second time.

"I am either a lot drunker than I thought," he said carefully, "or not drunk at all." Seeing her distress, he added, "Never fear, Granger, I cast a cushioning charm in time."

"Thank goodness. I am so, so, very sorry..."

He gave her a mildly reproving look. "Do you think that this is the first time that I've almost landed face-first in a snow bank after a night out? Besides which, even had I injured myself it would hardly rate on my top ten list of boo-boos."

"Boo-boos, sir?" she parroted, wondering just how drunk she had to be to imagine him using that particular puerile phrase.

That earned her the full professorial glare. "Boo-boos, Mistress Granger, unless you would have me refer to my past injuries as repetitive, horrific, soul-crushing wounds or something equally as poetic?"

"Nope. Boo-boos will work just fine."

"I thought so." He stuck out one of his lovely hands. "Now help me up before I freeze completely to the pavement. That would be a shame indeed."

Feeling quite foolish - not to mention increasingly sober - Hermione tugged him to his feet. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at his boot-clad feet, casting some sort of charm; with an arch of one brow, he looked at her.

"Sticking charm for the icy conditions. Do you want one?"

"If you would," Hermione replied and repressed a shiver at the sensual sensation of his magic gliding over her.

"Shall we?" he asked, voice taking on the clipped impatience that was terribly familiar from her youth.

They set off again, the snow starting to fall harder as they left the village. Each grim step seemed to erase a bit more of the enchanting man that she had drunk with; Hermione could practically see the walls being built up brick by brick. _Bugger and blast_ , Hermione cursed inwardly. _I am so not ready to return to the status quo!_

"Cupid's kettle drums!" she blurted.

The Headmaster jerked, giving her a bewildered look at the _non-sequitur_. She could practically see the gears spinning in his head as he tried to work it out, and felt a burst of smugness when he came up blank.

"Euphemism for breasts, dating from the Victorian era. Cupid's kettle drums," she explained challengingly. _Please, oh please take the bait..._

"You don't give up, do you?" he asked after a moment, a rueful, reluctant sort of humour playing across his countenance.

"No sir, I don't."

She met his gaze then, willing him to see her. Willing him to let her in, if only for the rest of the walk to the Castle. He looked away first, and his body language went as cold and remote as their surroundings. Nearly a minute passed in silence, and Hermione had given it up for a lost cause when he startled her by speaking again.

"You don't need to call me sir. After all, it has been some years since you were in my classroom. Severus will do just as well." Once again, his hair blocked any view of his face, and his voice was carefully formal.

Hermione smiled into the dark, figuring it was progress of sorts. "And whilst I do appreciate it, you needn't always call me Mistress Granger. Hermione is fine. Or Granger, if that's a bit much."

"Not 'Mione?" he queried, the sarcasm making evident that he already knew the answer to the question.

She snorted. "I like 'Mione about as much as you enjoy hearing 'Sevvy', I reckon."

"Hermione it is, then."

The quiet between them became more companionable, and Hermione let herself enjoy the wild winter beauty of the path. Tall firs lined the way, the branches shivering in the swirling breeze; here and there, a skeletal birch or elm stood sentinel. The usual sounds of the countryside were muffled by the snowfall, and rather whimsically it made her feel like she was walking in a snow globe.

"Thrupney bits," Severus said unexpectedly, and Hermione found herself turning in disbelief.

He rolled his eyes at her reaction and repeated pedantically, "Thrupney bits. Cockney rhyming slang for 'tits'. That puts me up by two, I believe."

It was an effort to not break into an utterly barmy smile. "The Girls. Bazongas..."


	2. Snow!

They were almost at the gates when it happened.

Severus was stymied by her last offering, it appeared; he had nothing to top her contribution of 'breasticles'. She saw a smirk form as he gave her a measuring once-over, and knew that whatever he had come up with was sure to be personal.

"Mosquito bites," he drawled, pointedly keeping his gaze a foot lower than her eyes.

"Oh, you utter arse..." she began, more amused than insulted; the observation wasn't exactly far off the mark. Faking a stumble, Hermione scooped a handful of wet snow and whirled, smacking him directly in the face with her missile.

He yipped loudly, lurching backwards and scrubbing at his face comically. Hermione started to laugh uncontrollably, covering her mouth with her woollen gloves.

"You dare, Granger..?" he growled, and Hermione started to retreat, still shaking with mirth.

"Oh, I dare," she gasped. "Just what are you going to do about it?"

How a grin could be both boyish and ominous, she couldn't figure, but it was. Severus took two menacing steps forward, long arms scooping up his own ammunition.

"Run," he commanded wolfishly, and the game was on.

* * *

While Severus was faster due to his height, Hermione had the far better aim. It helped that she had gloves on and he didn't; still he managed to get several good bombs in before she bolted like a rabbit for the cover of the trees.

Hermione gave him the slip but promptly gave herself away by cackling madly at the sight of him in full billow. He was liberally splattered with snow, the effect rendered particularly evident by the severe black colour of his outer robes. Spinning at the sound, he locked onto her location and charged with a bellow. Hermione did the only thing that would save her: she took off again, and at the last minute turned into him, dropping her shoulder and putting every kilo of her weight behind the tackle. Snow exploded around them as they collided, and Hermione sucked in a lungful of icy crystals.

When the powder finally settled, and she had caught her breath, Hermione found herself sprawled next to Severus, who was lying half-propped up by a snow bank and entirely covered with the white stuff.

His visage, sharp as it was, could hardly be made out. Slowly, a hand emerged from the snow bank and wiped the worst of it away, and Hermione braced herself for retribution.

But Severus did something completely unexpected. He laughed.

Deep and infectious, it was a sound originating from the very soul of the man. If his speaking voice was an expertly tuned weapon, his laugh was like the most exquisite work of art. It had the odd quality of bringing Hermione both joy and sorrow; somehow, she didn't think that he had laughed freely like this often.

_I wonder how many people have heard him like this..._

"Do you have a thing for knocking men on their arse, Granger?" he inquired finally, the reverberations of his humour still ringing in the trees and echoed in his eyes.

Hermione made a show of thinking about it. "No, only you. And to be fair, this is only the second time I've done so."

"Actually," he corrected dryly, "it's the third time. Might I remind you of a certain evening in the Shrieking Shack also starring Lupin and Black?"

"Oh. Right." Hermione felt another blush come on and was surprised by his apparent equanimity in recalling the incident.

His expression turned sly. "I believe you also have set me on fire."

"You knew about that?" she exclaimed, and then snapped her mouth shut at his triumphant smirk.

"Let's just say I've always had my suspicions. That bluebell charm is rather... distinctive."

Hermione decided to go for broke. "I supposed then that you knew who stole the boomslang skin in our second year?"

Severus flicked a bit of snow at her. "Of course I did. First of all, Moaning Myrtle can't keep a secret worth a damn, and secondly, someone had to brew the antidote that was responsible for ridding you of both a tail and fur. While she is undeniably a talented medi-witch, that person certainly wasn't Poppy."

"We didn't get away with anything, did we?" Hermione said with a groan and peeled off one glove so she could pick out some of the larger chunks of snow stuck in her curls.

That earned her another chuckle. "You're a professor now. What do you think?"

But before she could respond, his good humour turned into a scowl, and he let out an irritated hiss, pulling at his collar roughly.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, leaning forward with concern.

"I've got half the ruddy snow bank going down my shirt, that's what's wrong," he grumbled, pawing futilely at where it had started to melt. "Oh, for fuck's sake..."

"Stop being such a baby and hold still," Hermione ordered, trying not to laugh at the sight of him acting so out of character. Leaning forward, she carefully scooped away the snow that had worked its way between the collar of his cloak and his navy jumper. Stilling momentarily as she saw the jagged red scars on his pale neck, Hermione took in a deep breath and steadfastly ignored the associated recollections. _We were so close to losing him... but he'll not thank me for saying anything about that_ , she told herself firmly, throat going tight. For good measure, she brushed his hair away and checked the back; the black strands were almost weightless in the chill night air as they slid through her fingers.

"Turn your face this way. You've got a bit more by your ear," she said, registering only belatedly that her voice sounded oddly discombobulated. He did as requested, and without thinking, she brushed away what remained on his cheek.

Severus let out another low exhalation as she did so, and her eyes snapped to his. She expected anger, but what she saw nearly unmanned her.

He looked utterly lost.

Hermione had always thought his eyes to be the blackest of blacks, but in the strange, luminous light of the snowfall, she found that they were actually a rich, loamy brown. She couldn't tear her gaze from his; there was something gut-wrenching in the way Severus was staring at her as if he might fracture into a million pieces if she so much as moved her hand a millimetre from his face.

She couldn't ever recall anyone else ever wishing for her touch with such desperate fervour. It utterly humbled her.

Slowly, he tilted his chin upwards until her hand was cupping his cheek, the faintest rasp on her palm from the nascent stubble emerging from the pale skin. His eyes fluttered shut, the indigo half-moons of his lashes standing out in high relief against the sharp peaks of his cheekbones. In the hollow valley of his throat, she could see his pulse racing, a twin to her own.

"Please," he rasped hoarsely. "Please touch me..."

And then her heart did break. Hermione knew enough of him - enough of his past - to understand that a lack of physical affection hadn't just been a recent occurrence. _Oh, Severus_ , she thought, a curious sort of protectiveness filling her. _How do people not see you? Not want to touch you?_ Pressing her hand more tightly against his skin, she brought the other hand up to her mouth and used her teeth to yank off the remaining glove. Swiftly, she reached out and stroked the other side of his face, feeling the shiver that moved through him as she did so.

Other than that small movement, he lay utterly passive under her fingers. Gathering her courage, she began to caress his strong features, trying to impart as much comfort as possible. There was his nose, of course; a mountain if she had ever seen one. She could feel three slight bumps along the ridge from old breaks and slid one fingertip over the deep groove that rested between his beetle-black brows. _I have the start of one of those_ , she thought with a faint smile. _Will I look the same in twenty years?_

Harsh lines bracketed each side of his mouth, but the texture of the fine, thin skin at his temples was a revelation. So too was the flex of muscles surrounding his jaw, markedly different from the delicate femininity of her own.

Compared to the austerity of the rest of his face, the sheer abundance of his lips was like walking from a desert into a lush oasis. Breath catching, Hermione fondled the cupid's bow that had fascinated her earlier; his mouth parted slightly, a warm burst of air escaping.

Severus' eyes opened.

The raw, unbridled heat in them could have set the forest aflame, and Hermione's earlier protectiveness kindled into something else entirely. Those wonderful lips came to life under her fingers, and slowly - tenderly - he kissed the pad of her thumb.

They both sat completely still for an instant as their breaths intermingled in identical puffs of desire. She was trembling, Hermione realised and could see that Severus was too. Not letting herself stop and think, she leaned forward on one knee and pivoted, throwing the other leg over his lap and straddling him. Sliding her hands outward, she cupped his face and kissed him.

Despite the cold, his lips were warm and pliant, and she moved her mouth slightly to the left until she was nibbling on the corner where his lips joined; there was something in that subtle friction that made her heart roar in her ears and her knees quake.

But still he did not move, not even when she pulled back. "Severus?" she whispered, confusion and doubts suddenly swirling about her like the falling snow. _Oh god, what have I done?_

He blinked several times, nearly going cross-eyed as he looked down at her; then in a scrabbling rush, his hands came up to embrace her, lips covering hers in a hard, succulent kiss. With a relieved gasp, she opened her mouth and he took full advantage. His tongue teased the seam of her bottom lip and she moaned, the sound echoed by him a second later as she pressed her hips hard against him. One strong hand knotted itself in her curls, and the other spread low against her backside, urging her closer into his heat.

As she inhaled deeply, the intoxicating smell of Severus - bay rum, a hint of smoke and good scotch - filled her senses. Hermione's restraint melted away, and she eagerly twined her tongue around his; sliding a hand down to his coat buttons, she gave a series of impatient jerks, first opening his coat and then hers. The outerwear had prevented her from being able to fully settle on Severus' lap, and with it pushed out of the way, she slid all the way down.

"Oh," she gasped, feeling the obvious evidence of his arousal for the first time.

"Oh, indeed," he returned with a smirk, the hand at her back slithering under her jumper and top to find bare flesh. His hand was cold, and she bucked a little at the sensation.

The movement proved to be rather... efficacious. Pleasure streaked through her as she rocked against him again, hands dropping to his shoulders to gain better balance. Severus certainly didn't complain, giving a low growl as she repeated the motion a third time. Kissing the slender column of her neck, he gave it several sharp nips before soothing the marks with his hot mouth.

Hermione began to undulate with a purpose, feeling as though she was being undone and tied into a knot all at once. Never had she been so overtaken with desire; never had she wanted anyone as much as him.

"Severus..." she found herself groaning. "I need you..." she pleaded, but unable to articulate anything further. "Please, I need you to touch me..."

His gaze was scorching as he glided his fingers to a cotton-clad breast, teasing the nipple before cupping the whole of it and squeezing. She whimpered again, unable to stay quiet. Letting her head fall back as the overwhelming sensations washed over her - Severus's hot mouth on her collarbone, a marvellously skilful hand at her breast, and his hard cock grinding against her clit with perfection - she could barely make out the shapes of the soaring green towers surrounding them.

She felt close to breaking; without thinking, Hermione reached down between the two of them and started to fumble with his belt buckle. In an instant, the man below her went still, forehead pressing against her throat. She stopped dazedly, body pulsing with lust.

"Hermione," he murmured apologetically, the sound reverberating through the two of them. His hands slipped down to her hips, and he pulled her away. "We are in the middle of a snowbank. Frostbite is all but assured..."

"Right," she panted, sagging against his chest as she tried to bring her senses back under control. His heart was beating madly under her ear, a steady drumbeat echoing the pulse thudding between her legs. Unconsciously, she stroked the hard contours of his chest; his fingers began rubbing a soothing pattern on her sides.

They lay silently together for the better part of ten minutes. Tears pricked at her eyes, although she couldn't say why: it wasn't as if she had lost something. _Well, maybe other than one hell of an orgasm_ , she mused darkly.

A blast of Baltic wind smacked into the trees, causing the branches to shiver and whisper like a pack of hungry gossips.

"I'm shocked that we aren't lying in a puddle of slush given the heat we just generated," Hermione finally mumbled, attempting to pull herself together once and for all.

"The temperature has dropped considerably since we left the Three Broomsticks, not to mention it's also snowing far harder." Severus' reply was pedantic at best, and he could not look her in the eyes. Still, he reached between the two of them and buttoned her coat back up before attending to his own.

Understanding the gesture as a dismissal, she wobbled to her feet, wincing when she realised that her knees had gone uncomfortably wet from the snow. Severus rose far more gracefully, picking up her gloves where they lay discarded on the ground.

Face flushed, he finally glanced at her. Severus appeared to be at a loss for anything to say; shoulders slumping slightly, he handed her the gloves.

"Come. We should return to the Castle before we are both turned into pillars of snow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my thanks to everyone who took the time to read, comment, or leave kudos over the last week. Merci beaucoup! 
> 
> Reading through the entirety of this story, I realised that it's the most fluffy, possibly OOC thing I've written... and I can't bring myself to care. Right now, it seems like fluff is a good panacea for all the terrible weather and politics happening around us. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	3. Bed!

* * *

In a few short minutes they were back at the main gate, and with an unassuming wave of his wand, Severus led them through the protective enchantments. The iron structure slammed behind them with a dull bang, and Hermione once again found herself on the edge of tears. _What now?_ she wondered. _Will I ever see this side of him again?_

Glancing over at the dark man at her side, she saw that he was likewise struggling to hide his feelings. Reaching out with a shaking hand, she gripped his forearm. "Invite me up for a nightcap," Hermione begged impulsively. "Show me your etchings."

Severus appeared entirely gobsmacked, clearly not having expected her offer. Regret, bright and fierce and utterly heartbreaking, flashed across his face before his mask slid back into place. "Hermione..." he began, voice low and husky. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. "It's not that I'm not flattered..."

"But?" she queried, surprised at how calm her tone was compared to the storm that rapidly had kicked up within.

"But it would neither be appropriate or wise. Moreover, you are quite young..."

The memory of his desolation - of his hunger - returned to her then. Anger surged. It wasn't at the personal rejection, per se; rather, Hermione felt like she was battling for the survival of something frightfully rare and precious that he refused to acknowledge. That he refused to grant himself... _I can't!_ she thought furiously, _I can't just leave him to walk off alone without a fight!_

"You might," she told him carefully, "be able to convince me about the appropriateness of things, although considering that it's Irma and Minerva that do my evaluations, that doesn't quite hold up. But while I am younger than you - and yes, it's by a decent interval of years - I am not too young to know the consequences of my actions." Swiftly, she tugged at the sleeve of her coat and jumper, managing to pull it halfway up her arm. Even after several years, the word 'mudblood' carved in her flesh could still easily be made out; Hermione doubted that the knife scars would ever really fade.

His features tightened, but he said nothing.

"Look at this and tell me that I'm too young," Hermione admonished gently. Squeezing his arm, she went on. "Severus, I'm neither naïve nor innocent. I haven't been for a long time. As for wise... is it wise to spend an entire life alone?"

He reared back at that, looking for all the world as if she had hit him.

"I want you," she said, not caring how unsophisticated she might sound. "And I think that you want me, too. I'm not asking for white picket fences or forever; I'm not even asking for long walks by the lake and footsie under the table in the Great Hall. But might we finish what we started?"

"You can't possibly want..." he whispered, the words practically lost in the icy wind.

She stepped forward again, taking one chilled hand in her own. "I do. And if you don't believe me, then just look."

Severus' eyes widened, the black pupils almost drowning out the rich brown. _Please_ , she begged him with her gaze. _Please believe me. Please look. Please choose me!_ After an incredulous beat, his hand snapped upward, trapping her chin in his hand and tilting it upward slightly. " _Legilimens_."

It was like her mind was suddenly wrapped in the most comforting of black wool blankets, but she could feel his wavering uncertainty as the link was completed. With a gentle thrust, she pushed the memories of the evening at him. As flickers of their conversations rippled through her, she deliberately recalled not just the sensations of passion and pleasure, but the affinity and curiosity that had marked their interactions.

With a nearly audible snap, his emotions abruptly disappeared from the connection. Something colder and more ominous took its place. It hurt, and Hermione swayed slightly, fighting the urge to break the spell. Muttering an oath, he broke the connection, stepping back for a second time. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and waited, a foreboding filling her. Severus stared at his snowy boots for a long minute; the storm picked up around them as if sensing their sudden vulnerability.

"I don't have any etchings." His voice was flat. A robot could have delivered the line with more inflexion. Hermione sucked in a harsh breath at the rejection. _I will not cry_ , she told herself, nails biting into the soft flesh of her palms. _I will take this like the grown woman I am!_

"Nor, given the amount we both drank tonight, do I think it wise to continue down that particular path."

"Right," Hermione bit out through clenched teeth. _Breathe, girl, just breathe! It was a one in a million chance..._

Severus finally glanced up from his boots, his regard shifting to the tiny pinpricks of light in the distance that was all that was to be seen of the Castle. Then his eyes darted to hers, and she saw a ghost of his earlier lost expression.

_Please..._

His next words arrived like an unexpected gust of tropical air. "But have you ever heard of the lore of the Headmaster's Bed?"

"No," Hermione said, hardly daring to believe. "No, I'm afraid they left that out of _Hogwarts: A History_."

"Supposedly, each of the Founders created one of the bedposts. I don't know if it's true, but the ruddy thing positively reeks of old magic."

"Really?" Her heart seemed intent on galloping straight out of her chest.

His reply was as husky as hers. "Yes."

"That sounds rather... fascinating."

They stepped towards each other at the same time, not quite managing to bump. Hermione felt the start of a smile break through her icy features. Severus reached out tentatively. "Do you... do you wish to see it, Hermione?"

"I'd like that very much."

He kept steady pressure on her hand, pulling her into an embrace. "There are two options. We can walk... or I can Apparate us straight there. Headmaster's privileges, you know."

She laughed. "Apparition. I'm starting to lose sensation in several key areas."

Her comment provoked a hint of that wolfish grin again. "Well, that won't do, now will it?"

"Hardly..."

Arms tightening around her, Severus whirled them into the compressive chaos of Apparition. They landed in a dark room; with a low crackle, flames sprang to life in the fireplace. His face was cast into the cloaking shadows by the flickering illumination, and the tension of the moment seemed to freeze Hermione in place.

Breathlessly, she waited for him to say something. He didn't speak; instead, his lips skimmed hers, a tender, gentle point of heat that made her sigh with pleasure. As the kiss spun out, Hermione felt her body shudder into life once more. Reaching out, she gripped his snow-covered cloak, pulling him closer. Severus' hands came up behind her, first kneading her bum and then lifting her up. Wrapping her legs around his trim waist, she groaned as he took several halting steps forward, her back hitting what she presumed was a bedpost. Without giving her a chance to catch her breath, he pressed her more firmly against the impediment.

Being stuck between a rock and a hard place had never felt so heavenly.

Mouth opening, Severus sucked her back into the passionate swirl in which she had so badly wanted to drown earlier. His kiss was deep and dark and more than a little desperate; there was nothing restrained or gentlemanly about it. She returned his desire touch for touch, revelling in the low, pleased sounds that he made and not holding back any of her own. So lost she was in absorbing the many flavours of his kiss that she fought when he tried to lower her to the ground.

"Clothes, Hermione... clothes. This time we are wearing far too many."

She stared at him blankly before it clicked. "Oh, right..." Hands shaking, she undid the buttons of her jacket, tossing it to the ground carelessly. Her jumper and singlet quickly followed, and Hermione was just about to unclasp her bra when a long-fingered hand stopped her.

Severus had taken off his cloak, but was still otherwise dressed; he was watching her with a heated intensity that made her hands falter. "Allow me."

The pale blue bra was a front-hook closure, and with a simple flick, Severus had it undone. Slowly, he peeled the narrow straps down her arms and, with a shiver, she let it join her other items. It was a struggle not to cover herself; between the scars and the petite size of her breasts, she suddenly was quite self-conscious.

"As you said, mosquito bites," she said drolly, aiming for matter-of-factness.

"No." Severus' voice was low and rich. "Sheer perfection." Leaning down, he placed an open-mouthed kiss over a pale nipple, teasing the bud with his tongue. Sliding a hand over her flank, he caressed the other breast, and she moaned loudly; as if he only had been waiting for her encouragement, he began to nuzzle her cleavage in earnest, leaving a series of red marks in his wake.

Gripping the bed frame with one hand, she wound the other through his hair, holding him tight. He chuckled at the manoeuvre, the reverberation rolling across her flesh in a sensual delight. Hermione found herself rocking against his trouser-clad thigh once more, although the differences in their heights rendered the motion not nearly as enjoyable in the vertical.

"Severus..." she whined, painfully aroused yet again. "The bed..."

He stopped, her nipple leaving his marauding mouth with a wet pop. "You want to see the bed?" he queried in mock confusion. "It's right behind you, darling. I'm surprised that you missed it."

She gave the back of his head a careful clout. "Don't think I haven't noticed that you've had me pinned against what can only be the Slytherin Post. I can feel the snakes." Pulling at his hair, she turned his head toward the large mattress. "Now, shall we move locations?"

"Cruel, demanding woman."

It was her turn to laugh as she released him. "Damn straight. I know what I want, and at the moment that happens to be you."

Toeing off her boots, she shimmied out of her jeans and scrambled onto the bed. She sank a bit into the surface, the luxurious brocade under her bare legs feeling decadent.

Turning back to look at Severus, she sent him a teasing smile over her shoulder. "Aren't you going to join me?"

He said nothing, eyes glittering avidly in the half-light of the room. With admirable haste, he began to strip. Hermione rolled to one side and propped herself up on an arm to watch. His lean form was nicely defined, and he sported a fair amount of black hair on his chest and legs; her fingers itched to stroke the long lines of his body.

Without warning, he grabbed her by one ankle and pulled her closer to the edge of the mattress, spreading her legs wide. The reality of what she was doing - and who she was doing it with - intruded uncomfortably. She flushed, feeling oddly vulnerable.

He saw her sudden anxiety and released her foot promptly. "Hermione, you aren't a virgin, are you?"

"No," she told him quickly, pulling her legs back together. "Although to be fair, I haven't exactly done this a lot."

Relief coloured his expression, and he carefully lay down next to her. "If anything becomes too much, tell me. I promise you, I'll stop."

"I'd be more unhappy if you did stop," she said, running a tentative hand over his chest.

"Are you on birth control?"

She shook her head. He leaned in for a languid kiss, one hand ghosting to her abdomen. " _Prohibere fecundatio_ ," he whispered, and she felt the magic move from him to her in a glorious wave. His evident concern for her well-being served to relax her, and she snuggled closer to his solid warmth.

Severus had kept his pants on, and the large bulge in the front of the black boxers drew her attention like a magnet. _Well,_ she thought in nervous anticipation, _he looks quite a lot bigger than Ron..._

"You are thinking too much," Severus rumbled, mouth dipping down to her collarbone as he shifted to loom over her.

She gasped at the heady sensation. "Then stop me."

"I intend too." His clever hands found her breasts again and Hermione writhed under the onslaught. But instead of lingering on her peaks, he continued lower, his inky black hair sliding over her skin as his lips found the indentation of her ribcage. Then he moved lower, and she realised what he intended.

"You don't have to," she gasped as his hand traced a pattern over her sodden knickers. "I'm so close already..."

"I want to." Giving the fabric a measured tug, he drew it down, staring at the lush delta between her thighs. "You smell divine."

A prickle of unease muted some of her pleasure. "Really, Severus, it isn't necessary..." He paused and peered up at her reddening face. "I've never been able to come when a man... does that."

There was nothing mocking or condemning in his expression. "Does the thought of it make you that uncomfortable?"

Vividly, she recalled the one and only time that Ron had attempted such a deed; he had whinged the entire time about getting hair in his mouth, and had poked and prodded her in such a rough fashion that the actual undertaking of sex afterwards had been painful.

Hermione bit her lip. "No... but I don't think he knew what he was doing."

"Ah." Severus laid a reassuring hand on her leg, a suggestion of a smirk appearing. "At the risk of sounding like a braggart, I am given to understand that I am rather skilled at the art of cunnilingus."

"Is that so?"

"Indeed. Will you trust me in this, Hermione?"

She closed her eyes momentarily. _He's shown his faith in you tonight... and it's not as if he's been bad at any of the rest of this..._ "Yes. I trust you."

His smile warmed. "Good. There is one other reason, you know."

"And what's that?" she said with a squeak as his mouth began roaming again.

"This." Reaching a long arm down, he peeled off his boxers.

Hermione gaped; she couldn't help it. "Jesus fucking Christ, Severus! You weren't kidding when you said enormous."

"Would I lie to you about that sort of thing?" he asked with dark amusement, letting her look freely.

She had seen her fair share of penises - being a Hogwarts Prefect had guaranteed that, not to mention camping for months on end with two less-than-bashful boys. Severus took the cake, however; not only was he a good deal thicker than anyone she'd seen, but she could tell that he was longer, too. _I am going to be sore in the morning. But it'll be worth every bit of it..._

"Shall I carry on?" His hot breath washed over her belly button and she shivered.

Obligingly, Hermione parted her thighs. "As you were, then..."

He laughed, and his hands closed on her thighs possessively, pulling them apart. Severus nuzzled at her hip once more, and she felt her fingers lightly drift over her mound, sparks of pleasure following in their wake.

"Severus," she gasped, threading her fingers into the silk of his fine hair. "Please, don't tease… not this time."

His only answer was to swirl his thumb around her clit, parting her folds; he made a low sound in the back of his throat when he saw how wet she was. Then his mouth was on her, and his fingers sliding into her, and it was all Hermine could do to not arch off the bed as her body turned into a ball of trembling desire.

Mouth sucking and licking with a carnal, endless hunger, Severus drove her to ecstasy faster than she ever experienced before. The sensations were so overwhelming that his actions blurred together, and her orgasm slammed into to her without much warning. She was aware of wailing his name, and tried to loosen her grip on his hair as her entire body seemed to convulse.

It was several minutes before she could think clearly again, and when Hermione opened her eyes, it was to find that Severus was stretched out beside her, dark eyes burning.

She pulled his face closer, kissing him languidly. The sweet, musky taste of her own pleasure was strong in her mouth, and they both groaned. Rolling so that he had all but pinned her to the mattress, Severus began to kiss her in earnest, hands cupping her breasts and hips. Shifting under his pleasurable weight, Hermione lightly dug her nails into his back as the head of his erection pressed against her.

"I want all of you," she murmured, flexing against him. "Now…"

Bracing himself on one elbow, he dragged his cock through her wetness several times before beginning to push himself inside her. Deliberately, she kept her eyes on his face as the pressure between her legs increased.

"Tell me if I need to stop," Severus said with another low groan as he worked his way in deeper. "Christ, but you feel good…"

Wanting to feel all of his thick length, Hermione brought her legs up, digging her heels into his thighs in encouragement; all it took was a shallow rock of her hips to seat him fully within her. Other than a brief twinge of pain, she felt only the sensation of being utterly full, of another wave of pleasure tightening in her belly.

They both paused, letting their bodies adjust. Tenderly, Severus nuzzled her neck, forehead pressing into her as he panted, frame tense and taut; Hermione could feel small shivers racing up and down the long line of his back. In response, she stroked his along the skin of his spine in reassurance, feeling the bumps and ridges of many old scars.

"All right?" he asked finally.

"Wonderful."

He moved then, a steady, solid egress, and Hermione bit her lip as it sent a jolt of electricity through her. His cock seemed to hit every nerve within, the wet sound of their joining filling the air as they both arched. Finding the angle he needed, Severus began to speed the rhythm of his thrusting up, and Hermione squeezed her pelvic floor, smiling at the hoarse groan the action produced.

Movements growing less controlled, Severus pulled her closer, head thrown back and inky hair forming a curtain around them. From tension in his body, she knew that he was close, and slid a hand down to her centre, rubbing quickly as a second orgasm hovered just out of reach.

His fathomless eyes snapped open, and Hermione saw the exact second that he lost himself to pleasure. It was an expression that she would never forget; bliss and need with a wild, desperate longing to belong. Her entire being seemed to pulse in response, his look of ecstasy enough to finally push her over the edge. Hips bucking hard as the world closed in, Hermione heard his strangled groan as he climaxed with a violent shudder.


	4. Beginings!

Her skin was irresistibly golden in the firelight and softer than silk under his questing fingers. Even though sleep tugged at him relentlessly, Severus couldn't help but stroke the ripe backside that fit so nicely under his palm, finding the action to be strangely hypnotising.

The whole evening had been a lark, Severus reflected. He had come into the Three Broom Sticks a shade resentfully; it wasn't that he begrudged Pomona - or any of them, really - any happiness, but it did neatly highlight how alone he was. The complicated and painful happenings of his first year as Headmaster had utterly cemented his status as an outsider, although honestly, matters hadn't been much better before his unwanted promotion. It was with some sympathy, then, that he had watched Granger flit from one group to the next, never quite landing successfully; in addition to being a former student, she was considered too young and inexperienced to be seen as a true peer by the older faculty.

Luring her over to his table had been ridiculously easy, and her genuine enjoyment of his company had been a balm to his ego. That she looked rather splendid in her close-fitting jumper and tight jeans had merely been an added bonus. Her disappointment in his leave-taking had produced a queer sort of pleasure; he had never allowed himself to become entangled in the considerable charms of the adult iteration of Hermione Granger.

Abruptly, the memory of her hand, warm and delicate and casually affectionate as it brushed snow off his cheek surfaced. It had been such a little thing, but the gesture had been akin to swinging open a barn door. As he had sat half-buried in a bloody freezing snowbank, Severus had realised that he couldn't remember the last time anyone other than Poppy had touched him. That cold knowledge had awoken a terrifying rush of desperate skin hunger, and it had taken all of his willpower not to throw his head up to the stars and howl out his anguish.

Hermione hadn't been frightened off by his mood; nor had there been an overflowing of pity in her reaction. No, it had been more a recognition of mutual need... and then she had surpassed any latent fantasy by snogging the sense out of him.

Sanity had returned, eventually; the frigid weather had helped to end matters far more than any gentlemanly restraint on his part.

The reasons that he had sputtered out when turning her down at the gates were pure bunk, of course. He'd been frightened out of his wits - Hermione Granger had found the keys to his Castle, and she didn't even have the faintest clue that she held them – and Severus was determined to protect himself from further pain. But when he had looked into her lovely, agile mind, he had found something quite unexpected. She hadn't wanted the power of having the Headmaster of Hogwarts between her legs, or wished for a Death Eater to pleasure her into submission. Hell, she hadn't even wanted her former professor to call her a naughty girl and order her to detention: she had wanted the man with whom she had gotten agreeably squiffy and traded vulgar adjectives. Hermione had desired _him_ , not the billowing robes, spycraft, or all-powerful position.

Saying no had been painful, the feeling only multiplying when he'd seen how much it hurt her. He'd wavered. It had been the thought of the icy, dark walk back to the Castle, of climbing the steep stairs to his tower and sliding into the cold and barren bed that had finally broken him. He had done it for more years than he wanted to count and could face it no more.

The woman sprawled on top of him gave a happy sigh, jolting him out of his wool-gathering. "You didn't lie, you know. Enormously satisfying didn't even begin to cover it..." She shifted, the sensation of her breasts momentarily rubbing against the flat planes of his chest sending a flare of pleasure through him. Intent amber eyes locked onto his, and she trailed a hand up until she was cupping his cheek once again. "Thank you, Severus. That was marvellous."

His throat tightened with unspoken emotion. "It should be I saying thank you, not the other way around."

It occurred to him then that if he'd proved himself a worthy lover, a diverting enough bed-mate, perhaps she'd stay. Not forever, of course; he didn't have the right to ask that of her. But maybe she would linger past the dawn. She might return to him on yet another empty night...

Hermione let out a sleepy, adorable snuffle. "Mmm... yes, well it does take two to tango."

"It was a hell of tango."

He could feel her smile. "That it was." Tiredly, she lifted her head from his chest and looked at him. With an effort, she pulled herself out of the warm bedclothes and scooted higher. Leaning down, Hermione kissed him again, a tender, sweet thing that made him want to throw open his closet full of skeletons and let her wantonly redecorate.

"Sleep, my Severus. We can hash matters out in the morning."

Her phrasing indicated a pleasing level of possessiveness; she had promised to here in the morning. It was enough. With a nearly silent sigh, Severus slept.

* * *

His bladder eventually pushed him back into consciousness.

Dawn had broken over the lake, the light shifting from muted greys to the full kaleidoscope of pinks, yellows, and reds announcing the sun's arrival. Five minutes of painstaking work had gotten him unwrapped from Hermione without waking her, and he fled to the loo just in time.

It was while washing his hands that he noticed the perfect set of crescent nail-marks on his shoulder. He smirked at his reflection. _Ah, but I would wager that I've left my fair share of marks on her, as well..._ The thought prompted him to grab a container of healing salve from the cabinet. With a slight grimace, he rubbed a dab onto his bright pink cheeks; he was rather wind-burned, and it looked absurd compared to his more normal English pallor.

Severus was just easing his long legs back under the covers when Hermione stirred.

"Hello," she mumbled, and started to stretch. Halfway through the movement, she stopped, blinking several times.

"Sore?" he asked, unscrewing the salve.

"Yes..." Hermione said with a frown. "Sore all over, actually. I think the hike through the snow did me in more than I thought. And well, you know…"

"Allow me." Soothingly, he rubbed some of the cream onto her flushed cheeks, satisfied at how it brought the colour down. Drawing the sheet down, he examined her carefully. With methodical precision, he started to remove the love bites on her neck and breasts, not missing how her breath sped up and her nipples darkened as he touched her. Severus didn't ignore the rest of her body either, smoothing the salve over her limbs and sides. Leisurely, he trailed his hand down her stomach, watching as the muscles jumped under his touch.

"Severus..." His name was a breathy, pleading invocation, and he smiled, dipping his hand back in the jar. Her legs parted without him asking, and the musky scent of her arousal filled the air.

_She wants me still..._

Hermione bucked as his fingers found her wet core, undulating restlessly when he didn't press his advantage. The cooling sensation of the salve and the sheer heat of her made for quite the combination; he could only imagine what it felt like for her.

"Please..."

Ghosting a kiss over her lovely lips, Severus started to move his hand. "You only need ask..."

* * *

She had come apart against his hand in a rather spectacular fashion.

Busy trying to imprint the recollection of her cries onto his memory, Severus missed her scooping a healthy amount of the salve out of the jar; he did not, however, remain oblivious when she proceeded to wrap her hand around his stiff cock and squeeze.

"Gods!" he bellowed, nearly coming off the bed as the cold, slick compression met his heat.

Hermione bit her lip, working her fingers down his shaft. "I thought you might be sore, too," she said innocently.

He could not help but surge upward, craving her release. "I am."

"Excellent." In one limber movement, Hermione straddled him. The sight of his cock nestled between her curls caused him to groan and throw his head back. "Shall we experiment a little?"

It was his turn to come apart at the seams.

* * *

"Bugger the bed, Severus, you should have mentioned the size of your bath!"

"I didn't know you had a thing for porcelain, or I would have."

Her curly head poked coyly out of the bathroom door. "Would you care to join me for a soak?"

Severus was on his feet in an instant, an unfamiliar, giddy hope filling him. "I suppose I can make that sacrifice..."

* * *

Hermione was only thirty-three seconds shy of being late to supper. Still, she had beat the Headmaster to the Hall, and that was all that counted. Slipping into the narrow space between Hagrid and Poppy, she gazed over the impatient and ravenous student body. At precisely six, the hall doors banged open and Severus strode in, black robes billowing behind him.

He looked simply... well... _Sex on a stick, indeed_ , she thought, fighting hard not to smirk and give it all away.

Poppy gave an affectionate snort as she took in the Headmaster's entrance. "Oh, will you have a look at that. Someone's feeling rather full of themselves tonight. He certainly has snooty and untouchable down pat, doesn't he?"

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, Hermione resorted to making a non-committal shrug, studiously peering at the menu. _She's got it all wrong. They've all got him wrong. He's not untouchable in the least..._ She shifted, the hard surface of her chair uncomfortable. Despite their thorough precautions, Hermione had ended up sore once again. _Hah... if anything, I'm the one that's been rather full of him!_

As he brushed passed her chair, he inconspicuously zapped it with a cushioning charm, something affectionate and secretive dancing his eyes as he did so. _And if I have my way_ , she vowed, _I'll be rather full of him later, too!_

With a dramatic flourish, Severus sat in the ornate Head's chair and gazed out at the student body. "You may begin..."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I bet you all thought Severus was going to bugger this one up, didn't you? *smirk*
> 
> In future, I may extend this story into something longer than the original, but I want to finish up 'A Derailed Train of Thought' and 'Hallelujah' before I come back to this; for now, it will be marked as complete. Consider it my fluffy, lemony New Year's gift to all you wonderful fanfic readers and writers out there who continue to inspire me. Thank you!
> 
> As always, stay warm and happy reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that I've held onto for a while with the hopes that I could expand (and that still might happen!), but I want to get it off of my mental queue so that I can better focus on other things. It will be complete in four chapters, and I'll be posting every couple of days until it's all up. 
> 
> Huge thanks to Nate and Lolly, who beta'd my commas into submission. Any remaining mistakes are mine. The title comes from the lovely Ray Lamontagne song of the same name. 
> 
> Happy New Year to everyone!


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